How the Holmes stole Christmas
by DodgerMD
Summary: Watson gets into the Christmas Spirit. Holmes doesn't. How lucky the brutal murder of a mall Santa Clause happens just on time!
1. Chapter 1

**Two things before you continue reading:**

 **First: My mothertongue isn't english, so I would like to apologize in advance for any weird grammar, puncation or general mistakes. Please be kind. ^^'**

 **Second: All criminal and forensical stuff is made up. The story is mainly for fun, so please don't think too much into it. ;3**

 **Other than that: Enjoy reading and Happy Holidays!**

* * *

" _Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day…"_

The infamous tune by Wham! was playing gently in the background, while Joan Watson hummed softly to herself. She usually was none to hang all that tight in the holly drapes of the whole Christmas spirit, yet the last week they had finished a case and ever since then nothing new had turned up.

Holmes at at first hD busied himself with all sorts of weird things she most of the time watched with a mixture of mild amusement and concern for both of their lives, however after his third night without sleep and the adrenaline of their last case WEARING off, he had eventually passed out and was not to be seen ever since three days.

Watson had occasionally heard him shuffle to the bathroom or to fetch himself something to drink, yet she knew it was mostly sleep walking and trying to talk to him, when he was like that, was about as useful as trying to talk a sloth into a jog around the park.

She had once tried to reason with him, that his ways of sleeping for days straight was about as good for his health as exhausting himself completely during cases, but he had just shot her an unrelated glance and shuffled off again towards his bedroom. When she had tried to talk to him again, once he had overcome his lethargic episode, it had ended in an argument and so eventually she had decided it was one of the things she would just accept, no matter if she approved or not.

At least the disappearance of Holmes into hibernation had provided her with an unusual amount of time to spare and so she had taken the opportunity to meet up with some neglected friends. She had gone shopping, eat in restaurants she loved and yesterday even been ice skating with her friend Stacey and her little daughter. It probably also had been what had caused this unusual Christmas spirit to stir within her.

The little girl was adorable and talking about Santa with her, had made Watson grow nostalgic, which eventually had resulted in her first buying a record with Christmas songs and eventually made her fetch all her Christmas decoration from her flat and drape them all over the brownstone.

There were lights in the windows of the living room, a nice little tree with ornaments inherited from her grand-parents, some little trinkets friends and family had given her over the years and she just hadn't been able to help herself from hanging a pair of stockings above the fireplace. Holmes would probably throw a tantrum, but at the moment she didn't care. It wasn't like she already hadn't gotten used to his little displays of temper.

Besides that, she enjoyed herself far too much, sitting on the couch with a nice book, a blanket wrapped around her, a cup of coffee on the table and the fire gently flickering in the fireplace. A long sigh escaped her, it was trashy, yes, but it was also so wonderfully cosy and quiet.

That is, until the sound of shuffling made her look up from her book and just as the song changed to "Lonely this Christmas" by Elvis Presley, a familiar sight appeared in the doorway, staring at her through bleary eyes and wrapped in a blanket, Holmes looked like he still had no idea where he was, yet she knew it'd likely only take another moment for his system to completely start itself and then the "fun" would begin.

"Now look who came crawling out of his cave." she eventually said with a smile, deciding to just enjoy the drowsy state of her room-mate as long as it lasted.

He merely blinked, slowly looking about while making a weird face somewhere between uncomfortable and disgust, his face just seemed to have absolutely no filter when it came to showing what was going on inside him.

"Cold." he finally croaked dolefully, slinging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Yes, the weather changed recently, or no, wait, it changed two days ago. You've been sleeping since saturday, that's three days straight. Again." she said, shooting him a somewhat reproachful glance, which he either didn't realize or ignored on purpose, for he just shifted uncomfortably. Watson sighed somewhat to herself.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered, to which he nodded wordlessly, like a child after a short pause, like he often did, especially around her.

"Come on, sit down, I'll make you some." she offered, unwrapping herself from her own warm blanket and patting for him to sit down instead, which he did still wordlessly, while Watson went to fetch the promised tea.

When she returned, he still was sitting there, eyes focused at nothing, merely staring away into nirvana it seemed. Watson hated this look on him, she hated to see him zoned out like that, it always worried her. She said nothing though, but sat down beside him, holding out the mug of tea for him, which he took after a short pause.

For a moment they sat there in silence, Watson was about to ask him, if he was alright, when eventually he said.

"What sort of blinking trash purgatory is this supposed to be?"

There we go, he was awake.

"I don't know, I just felt it was somewhat nice to have a bit of Christmas spirit brought into our home. I know you wouldn't like it, but come on, it's just some nice, cosy tradition." she said.

"Tradition? Cosy? You are aware that the entire origin of this ridiculously commercial holiday goes down to a man being horned by his wife, who claimed some mysterious deity and slash or his messenger impregnated her, resulting in a schizophrenic child that believed he was being given messages from said deity, which eventually ended him up murdered cruelly?" Holmes said poisonously.

"Sherlock, seriously, you can't just turn around everything." she rolled her eyes.

"Can't I? The american Santa Clause is, in fact, an invention of capitalism itself and as such the entire holiday should perhaps be renamed into Capitalismas, that'd be more fitting…"

"Stop it! I know you'd be trying to make this sour for me, but I tell you, you won't succeed." Watson huffed at him, to which he stared at her and she could swear, there was challenge sparking in his eyes.

However, it was interrupted, when Holmes' cell phone rang, making him perk up and reach out for it on the table, picking up with the usual firm: "Captain! How can I be of assistance?"

Watson quirked a brow, a new case? Well, she wasn't sure if she was glad this had interrupted their argument or merely prolong it to later.

"Yes? Yes. Of course. Momentarily. Watson and myself are on our way!" Holmes meanwhile spoke, just to leap to his feet once he hung up, shoving the mug of tea back into Watson's hands.

"Watson, get dressed! It seems your so-called Christmas spirit was uncanny fitting, apparently Santa has been murdered!" and with that he was off, leaving Watson with a soundless "What?" on her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't long after that the taxi dropped them in front of a Brooklyn mall. Watson had to cringe a bit inwardly. It was the very mall she had been ice skating at with her friend and her friend's little daughter yesterday. Holmes seemed oblivious to anything, but the case ahead of them, eagerly jumping out of the taxi and letting Watson keep in mind actually paying the driver, before following him inside.

A small crowd already had gathered near the entrance, curiously trying to catch a peek behind the watchful cops and cars blocking the view. Well, Watson obviously wasn't the only one, who had frequently visited the mall. It was Christmas shopping time and the malls were filled with people at this time of the year. She was just glad, that whatever had happened, had apparently taken place in the closing hours and so not had had any child witnesses.

Captain Gregson was already awaiting them at the entrance of the mall, as per usual greeting them with a curt nod and not bothering for any small-talk.

"The cleaners found the corpse. Apparently he's been killed shortly after the mall closed, so far there are no witnesses, apparently the security cameras also have been hacked, for their is no footage of the murder or anything on them." he briefed the two of them, while they walked towards the murder scene.

"The culprit probably knows the mall and it's ways. I suspect he stole footage from the days before and made them show on the monitors the day of the murder, while he was out for his gruesome business. Nothing too hard to achieve. Recording and replacing mall footage, that is." Holmes said.

"Yeah, our tech guys are already at it." Gregson merely said while they walked.

"Might I also request access to the footage of the last weeks, Captain?" Holmes piped up.

"Sure, help yourself." the Captain nodded, motioning for one of the cops to go get a copy for Holmes as well.

When they approached the sight of the murder, Watson again felt her interns grow somewhat tense. It wasn't like she hadn't already seen plenty of murder scenes, it was just that only yesterday she had come here with a little girl, who had run to sit on Santa's lap at this very stage. The plush rendeers were still standing around, as well as the overly trashy christmas trees, the fake snow, the empty parcels that were merely empty boxes wrapped to resemble gifts and last but not least, the big wooden chair on which Santa had been sitting.

And there he still said. Only that he no longer looked as kind and friendly as yesterday.

The man's body was positively mauled. Watson had seen much in her time, but this was definitely among the top ten. The corpse was still wearing his entire Santa attire, just the jacket was opened and so was his chest. The rib cage was broken open and where his heart should have been, it no longer was, but it was replaced by what looked like a much smaller heart. Holmes already was at it, buzzing about the dead man's body, sniffing and peeking, prodding and inspecting, while Watson stepped up to Bell.

"Hey." he greeted, "Terrible picture isn't it? You alright?" he quirked a brow somewhat, when seeing how Watson was unusually pale around the scene.

"Yeah, I'm fine...it's just, I was here yesterday with a friend and her daughter and she actually sat on the man's knee." Watson told.

"Oh. That's awful, you…" Bell began, but was interrupted by Holmes.

"Watson!" he called, looking over his shoulder, motioning for her to come over. Bell shot her a somewhat concerned glance, but Watson merely mentioned for him that it was alright, before she went to Holmes.

"Can you identify this heart for me? My suspicion is either dog or pig." he said.

"I'm no veterinarian, I can't tell apart all heart of the world, oh my god, they actually sewed it back into the guy, this is disgusting. Who would do something like that?" she shook her head.

"Maybe he also was forced into a hell of blinking lights and cosy atmosphere?"

"Get over it, it's just some lights and a tree. I also endure all your weird...experiments." Watson rolled her eyes.

"You endure them? Well, I'm sorry if I bother you with doing my best in your education as an investigator…" Sherlock huffed.

"I think it's a dog. We used to practice on pigs hearts a lot in med school and they usually all had defects due to the feeding they get." Watson decided to just stop the conversation.

Lucky enough, it worked, for Holmes bounced on his heels some.

"Excellent!" he said.

"Excellent?" Watson questioned.

"Excellent! You can buy pigs hearts in every butchery I imagine, however, unless you life in certain parts of mostly the asian continent getting your hands on a dog's heart is a lot harder!" he told and Watson nodded in agreement.

"Right! They would need to get it from a vet. Either purchase or steal it."

"Exactly!" Holmes said with a grin on his face.

"We probably best look up all nearby vets and see, if some of them have been robbed of animal bodies lately." Watson suggested.

"Or see, if they are shady enough to sell the mortal remains of a beloved family pet."

"Yes, or that." Watson said with a slight shake of her head.

"Best of luck then, we stay in contact via messages!" Holmes then told, which made Watson go after him quickly.

"Wait, wait, wait do you mean I should go alone?"

"Yes, of course. See it as today's exercise." he told her simply. Watson looked at him a long moment, not able to help herself, but feel something was smelling fishy here.

"And what will you be doing?" she asked.

"I need to join the Captain questioning the cleaner who found the body, as well as I would like to talk to Santa Clause's employer, not to mention there are a couple hundred hours mall footage waiting for me...or would you prefer joining me watching?" Holmes told with his face giving away nothing.

"No, I'm fine." Watson quickly said, she definitely lacked the patience to watch an empty mall until tomorrow morning.

"I'll talk to you later." she added, before turning to leave. Yet, not without shooting Holmes another suspicious glance, yet his face was still empty. She feared she'd get to know if her fears were to be proven right soon enough, though.


	3. Chapter 3

The day turned out to be rather exhausting for Watson and her investigations on vets, who might have had dog bodies stolen from them or even sold them. As she had to discover, there were a whole lot of veterinarians practicing in Brooklyn. And not all of them found it too good to be accused of selling the dead bodies of their former patients, once they had turned out not to have been robbed of dead dogs, which again obviously wasn't something a vet liked to hear about. Watson discovered that vets apparently took their patients quite as serious as she had during her practice. Which sure was a good thing, just not all that helpful when you weren't owning a sick pet, but trying to solve a murder case.

When she finally headed home late afternoon, it already was dark. The lights were on and she again felt that certain Christmas Spirit stir within her. She already was looking forward to a nice, warm mug of coffee wrapped in her blanket in front of the cosy fire with her lovely Christmas decoration. Hopefully Holmes already had gotten over himself and retreated with the mall's security videos. Sometimes a woman just needed her cosy time.

"Hey! I'm back!" Watson called, when she entered the Brownstone. No answer. No surprise. She got out of her coat and boots, then proceeded on to look for Holmes. When a glance into the living room made her stop in her tracks and take a step back again. Her eyes grew wide and she felt her innards begin to start to boil. Where were her things! The entire room was demoted of her Christmas decoration! No lights in the window, no stockings over the fireplace, no tree, no candles, no little Christmas trinkets! It was as if her decoration spree never had happened!

"SHERLOCK!" Watson yelled, before heading up the staircase, already having quite a good idea of where he was and indeed, he was sitting in his tv room, watching the footage of an empty mall at night on every screen. Yet, Watson cared little about the mall right now, she had a far more obvious issue at hand.

"Sherlock! Where are my things?" she said in a stern voice, to which he merely turned to look over his shoulder at her for a short moment, before returning his attention to the screens.

"Watson, you're back. Good. I hope you made some discoveries?" he said.

"I...hey, don't try to drop the subject! Where is my Christmas stuff?" she crossed her arms.

"You mean the trashy nonsense that cluttered the entire living room and robbed me of every bit of concentration, knowing such a ridiculous heap of kitsch celebrating the most fake of all holidays is in the same house as myself?" Holmes said challengingly, not looking away from his screens, which only angered Watson more.

"Yes, exactly THAT!" she huffed, "You stole it! Sherlock, you can't just steal my things! Tell me where they are?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not think myself implied to do so." he just stated.

"Well, if you don't tell me where my things are, I shall make sure you're sorry of what I'll see myself implied to do to you." she threatened, to which Holmes merely peeked over his shoulder briefly, his gaze saying everything. He knew it was a bluff.

"Come on, there were things inherited from my grandmother too." Watson eventually sighed.

"Personally I don't understand how keeping trinkets inherited from a passed person will help the loss of said person in any way. Not to mention, as far as I know, you grandmother died when you were a girl, so your memory is most likely scarce to begin with."

"Don't be difficult Sherlock. I won't put the stuff into the living room again." Watson offered with a roll of her eyes. She should have known that trying to get to Holmes goodwill would be fruitless.

A pause followed, before Holmes turned to look over his shoulder again. Watson twitched a brow slightly. Had she really gotten him?

"You are free to look for your items, Watson. See it as yet another exercise." he then said and for a short moment, Watson felt like strangling him, "If we are done with this petty argument now, I'd like to brief you on my own discoveries?"

Watson sighed, it was true, there still was a murder case at hand, but she would not give up so easily. Still, she nodded.

"Before I came back to the Brownstone to dispose of your lapse of good taste...no, the things are not in the bins, I shall spare you to look there...I happened to talk to the employer of our poor Saint Clause and was informed, that just a couple of days before, the man was hired, because the former holder of this questionable position happened to be let go due to extensive consume of alcohol and pick-pocketing." he told.

"So you think the bad Santa is a suspect?" Watson quirked a brow.

Holmes shrugged, "The man had access to the mall and knew his way around, he also worked as an IT technician, before his downfall into addiction after a particularly dirty divorce. He may be as good a suspect as any other, especially since he went missing apparently."

"Missing?" Watson tilted her head, "That's odd."

"Precisely. He might be our prime suspect, our second victim or just an addict that fell off the wagon. Three possibilities, isn't that exciting?" a short smile washed over Holmes face.

"Very. So, why are you watching the footage?"

"Captain Gregson said he would inform us, as soon as there was news from our missing Santa, in the meantime I'd like to find out on which day the footage was stolen to replace the time of the murder, so to know if it was before or after the other Santa was fired." he told, "What about the hearts?"

"Yeah, so one veterinarian had had a break-in, there were no meds stolen, just the bodies of 3 dogs she had to put down that day. I checked with the files, but there were no fingerprints or anything found and because it were just, well, dead dogs that got stolen the case was dropped pretty quickly and turned into an insurance case. She couldn't say she noticed any odd people around her practice the days before though." Watson told about her rather unsatisfying discoveries.

"Hm." was all Holmes said, before he fully returned his attention to the screens.

"What is it?" Watson asked quizzically.

"Three dogs...isn't that a bit unsettling?" was all he said.


End file.
